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Full text of "To The Lighthouse"

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landing there, which both seemed to be one and
the same effort, had stretched her body and mind
to the utmost. Ah, but she was relieved. What-
ever she had wanted to give him, when he left her
that morning, she had given him at last.

" He has landed," she said aloud. " It is
finished/' Then, surging up, puffing slightly, old
Mr. Carmichael stood beside her, looking like an
old pagan God, shaggy, with weeds in his hair
and the trident (it was only a French novel) in his
hand. He stood by her on the edge of the lawn,
swaying a little in his bulk, and said, shading his
eyes with his hand: "They will have landed/*
and she felt that she had been right. They had
not needed to speak. They had been thinking
the same things and he had answered her without
her asking him anything. He stood there spread-
ing his hands over all the weakness and suffering
of mankind; she thought he was surveying, toler-
antly, compassionately, their final destiny. Now
he has crowned the occasion, she thought, when
his hand slowly fell, as if she had seen him let
fall from his great height a wreath of violets and
asphodels which, fluttering slowly, lay at length
upon the earth,

Quickly, as if she were recalled by something
over there, she turned to her canvas. There it was
—her picture. Yes, with all its green and blues,